The Boston Creme Pie Challenge

Suddenly finding yourself with a wealth of free time, yet lacking a wealth of money, one tends to look for new ways to pass the time. As I try to get the writing thing off the ground again, any new sort of inspiration or challenge is quite welcome fodder for KT. And, today, I have a very unique challenge. Something I have always thought about but never thought about doing until now. Because, let's face it, this is a perfect time to discover more about myself. Today, I have a real bull in a china shop challenge.

Today, I will eat an entire pie in one sitting.

Glutenous, glorious, guilt, shame, full-I am bracing myself to feel a wealth of emotion. I might need counseling when I am finished. First, a little back story.

I don't really consider myself as having a sweet tooth. Sure, I have the occasional cravings just like anybody else, and from time to time I scarf down anything chocolate. Growing up, whenever it was my birthday, I had the dinner and desert of my choosing. And it was always pepperoni pizza and the most glorious, decadent sweet on the face of the planet; Boston Creme Pie.

(And, OK, let's get the cream pie jokes out of the way here. Yes, probably ever male reader knows what I am talking about, but in case you're one of my surprisingly many readers in Ireland, in street lingo, a cream pie is this. NSFW, obviously. OK, we all got that out of our system now?)

In the past, I have been all responsible, and made the BCP last as long as possible. It might take me 3-4 days to finish it, and no, I don't share. But it hit me to see if I could wolf the whole thing down in one sitting. My initial guess is a clear, “FUCK YES!” After all, it has been a struggle to hold myself to just one piece, when I easily feel I could go for a few more.

In fact, I don't expect this to be a challenge at all. The only thing I see stopping me is just the massive overload of sugar and delicious yet empty calories. Which leads me to a decision; do I just choke it all down before I get that “full” sensation? Or do I slow down a little bit so I can truly enjoy every morsel of God's sweet ambrosia? Decisions, decisions. If only I could somehow put this on my resume.

Seek and destroy.

For the record, the BCP is approx 3” high and 6 ½ “ across. For some actual research, I decided to try to track down the nutritional “value” of an entire BCP. Shockingly, there is no easily available data on housing an entire BCP. Logic then tells me no one has ever eaten a whole pie, so a call into the Guinness people is in order. I do find that a 1/6 slice (please, who only takes a sixth of a slice?) is actually not overtly horrible. 232 calories, 8G saturated fat, 132 mg salt. The killer here is a whopping 33 g sugar. Wow, this might disrupt my daily 3-5PM nap routine.

My On Demand yoga instructor will NOT be happy about any of this.

My first instinct is to cut a slice out that is about a quarter of the BCP; aka my usual piece. I am saddened how excited I am about doing this experiment. There's a sticker that says its made with real whip cream. And that appears to be a real cherry on top, so no one can tell me this is totally not healthy.

For the discerning pie eater, we always prefer real ingredients.

I'm using a stop watch as well to just get a basic idea of how much of my life this is going to take me; for writing purposes, of course.

Upon first bite, it occurs to me this just might be my best idea ever. In case you are curious about downing a massive calorie bomb, I can tell you, some preparation was done for this historic event. Last night I played 2 ½ hours of street hockey which works out to about 3 1/2-4 miles of interval running. Then, this morning, I dragged my sore body to the gym to get yet another workout in, to at least proactively control the massive amount of calories I will take in. And I am wearing pajama pants, so there won't be any issues there.

Slice two is just about half of the pie left. Sugar sweats are starting to kick in, and it may be time to take off this hoodie.

SUGAR RUSH!!!

Halfway done. I'm starting to feel like my parents caught me smoking and are now forcing me to smoke the rest of the pack. Slice three, about 2/3rds of the way down. Body is starting to revolt and asking where all the NutriBullets and protein are.

Boston strong.

16 minutes in. I've heard the stomach starts to get that full sensation after about 20 minutes, so I am up against a wall. Literally-as my expanding belly has pushed my chair that far out from the dining room table. From my seat I can see about 3 months of unread Men's Fitness staring back at me from my mail. Fucking irony.

22 minutes, and fatigue has set in. So has shame, to be honest. My plate looks like a murder scene. 2/3rds of the pie is staring back at me, mocking me, calling me names. Or maybe it's just the sugar crash. This is harder than I thought. How do those chicken wing Mfers do it?

26 minutes in, and it's a staring contest. The BCP is clearly wounded, but standing (relatively) firm. My gut is a wreck, but my belches taste like BCP, so it's not a total loss. Sugar rush is quickly disappearing, as bloat takes it's place.

Well, this is turning into a bit of a pissah.

30 minutes and it's time. I have given up, thrown in the towel, which is about the most physical activity I can muster at this point. 2/3rds done in a half hour is the record. At this point the thought of eating anything is enough to make me want to barf.

I just walked down and up six steps to let the dog in, as I didn't want him to witness this mess. He immediately greets me with a look like, “what have you done?” To try to psychologically wash away the shame, I immediately brush my teeth and three fall out.

It was a valiant struggle, but, alas, it is over. All this time I thought I could easily house a BCP has been a lie, a life shattering lie. What's next, being unable to down a 40 in 20 minutes? No more six plates of crab legs at an all you can eat?

In order to try to start to burn off the approximately 700 empty calories I have consumed, I stand to grab the leash to walk the dog, but am immediately greeted by a headrush when standing. He looks back at me like, “It's OK, bro, we can let this go.”

The BCP goes back in the fridge, where it will serve to mock me in 10 hours, which will also be the exact amount of time I should get hungry again.

43 Observations About Getting Older

As I blow out another obscene amount of candles on the cake, I have had time to reflect on this funny thing called life. I have complied 43 random thoughts, observations, advice and practices. Think of it as my way of giving back to you. Which is pretty hellacool of me considering you guys didn't get me a damn thing. In no particular order:

Time spent with a dog is never time wasted.

Dogs make great therapists. So does the gym.

Music is not an accessory. Music is a necessity.

Not that I have many regrets, but one of them is that I never learned to play an instrument. I'm jealous of anyone who can play anything. Whenever I see someone who can play two, I really want to break their damn fingers.

It doesn't bother you when your favorite groups break up because you know there will be a reunion tour a few years later.

Grey hair grows faster, stronger and longer than any other hair on the human body.

Even the models in the magazine don’t look like the models in the magazine.

Sunscreen. Every day.

Lifestyle changes > diets

  

Girls look hotter in boots. I don’t know the scientific theory behind it, but they just do.

Boots can even make up for a hideous dress!

Do something physical a few times a week. You don’t have to bench press 500 lbs, but a run, yoga class, sports. Do something. Stretching won't kill you, either.

12 is the Universal Number. Whenever you’re asked a question with a numerical answer and you don’t know it, just say 12 (or 120, or 1.2, etc.) You will be closer than you think.

Your body starts to gown downhill around 35, so cram as much in before that.

That awkward stage when you are older than all the players on your favorite sports team.

Calories definitely still count on your birthday; but they are magically more delicious.

You have to believe in yourself first before anyone else will.

People have seem to forgotten that they can still use their smart phone to actually talk to people.

Never turn down the opportunity to take a good nap. Conference calls, in particular, are a good time.

"This corporate speak is killing me."

Speaking your mind is a great way to earn respect of coworkers, but a shitty way of trying to get ahead.

I've been feeling ya, Punk

Like things tend to attract like things. For example, drama attracts drama. Stupidity attracts stupidity. But creativity attracts creativity. Fun attracts fun.

Always be prepared because you never know when the opportunity will happen to be in the next great story. Bill Murray has a great quote “I try to be available for life to happen to me."

I’m pretty sure if dragons existed, they wouldn’t ask to get tattoos of people.

Read. Preferably my stuff, but read nonetheless.

Hang out with people younger than you. They will keep you young. Also, this will be easier to do as you get older.

Hammock is necessary furniture.

The ocean heals.

If I’m somewhere with no phone reception, a serial killer will be nearby.

Question any statistic.

Take lots of pictures. Just don't post every freaking one of them.

Some people really do change; others don't. That's their gig. Just worry about being yourself.

Never feel guilty for sleeping in.

Hallowmas is a kickass holiday more people need to celebrate.

Put as much as you can in your 401k as early as you can. The 70 year old you will thank the 25 year old you.

Always say “thank you” and acknowledge when someone has done you a solid. Positive reinforcement is not being used enough these days.

The theme to Rocky will push you more than any other song known to man.

FUCK YEAH! Now where's some beef I can beat up?

Unplugging every once in a while will do you a world of good.

Whenever possible, tip in cash so your waiter/waitress/bartender won't have to pay taxes on it.

Who you are with is far more important than where you are.

If there's one place you need to be, someone will be in your way.

It's OK to say no.

I always try to do at least one nice thing as early in the day as possible. The rest of the day I'm free to be a dickhead.

Having a sense of humor is a great way to insult people to their face and laugh about it.

If I had a motto for life, it would be “The relentless pursuit of a good time.”

Wisdom

Originally written on 3/22/7, my birthday

The closer you live to a train crossing, the more likely you are to hit a train every fucking time by

Dogs can pretty much eat anything. Sure they might puke it back out in a few hours, or poop strange colors for days, but, still, technically, they can chow anything

While some grey has crept into my scruff over the years, I have found exactly one grey hair in my head, which I promptly pulled the sumbitch right out

All those kids I mock at the mall for dressing different and wearing the t-shirt of the band of the week were me 19 years ago

The older you get, the harder it is to have true enthusiasm

The older you get, the easier you become jaded

The Olympics are a waste of time and money. (Quick, name me 5 famous American Olympians. And saying the 1980 hockey team doesn’t count) Congrats, you trained all your life to win a gold medal in the three man luge. Now go back to greeting the white trash at the Walmart in Bumhicksville. The Special Olympics mean far more to those athletes

If Christina Applegate ever met me, she would totally fall for me. In a minute

It’s my experience that 95% of people don’t realize all they have and are ever truly grateful for it. Seriously, take a day, walk around your place, and be thankful for all in your life. Somewhere out there is a homeless vet who did more for this country than I ever did, and has less

I fucking had this look long before Nickelback, damn it

One of the things wrong with this country is that it’s gone the way of the few. If 4 jackoffs have a problem with something, well, then we have to change everything around

Whenever you can, support the little guy

After 21, there pretty much aren’t any big birthdays left

Rarely does the beer taste as sweet as the cheap beer you used to get wasted on when you were 15

If you really want to think “green” and save the planet, the solution is simple. Don’t have kids. All these fucktards that drive their 4 kids to lacrosse practice in a big ass SUV with Planet Earth bumper stickers on it are hypocrites

The coolest car in the history of TV is KITT from Knight Rider. One day I hope to be rich enough to buy it. Second place; Speed Buggy

Summer is the best season off all. And if you disagree, you’re a motard. Buffalo knows what I’m talking about

NASCAR hasn’t been the same without Dale Earnhardt

The best think to drink before going to bed after a night of drinking is Gatorade

The best thing to eat before going to bed is some cottage cheese and then peanut butter. You will have vivid dreams the first few weeks

No matter how bummed out I get, I just need a few hours looking at the bay or ocean to be a new man. For a few hours anyway

People who park in handicapped spots, even just to “run in”, are true scum of the earth

If there is a God, and he’s Buddha, we’re all pretty screwed

You shouldn’t live to work, you should work to live. When I hurt my knee a while back, I noticed I became more grumpy when all the things I liked to do were taken away from me.

I don’t write near enough

The decision makers at the top of big companies are rarely in touch enough with the real world to see the true impact

If you ever had anyone write a song about you, well, that is awesome

I try not to have regrets, but I do regret not going away to college, and I do regret never learning to play an instrument

You don’t spend enough time with your dog. Ever

Life should be the relentless pursuit of a good time. That’s my motto, and I try to stick to it

Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, try to have a good time. It might not make sense in certain situations, but at least give it a try

Getting older means peeing in the middle of the night. Sometimes more than once

Added Commentary
This was written on my birthday last year. I can see I was in a reflective mood. I can see how some of these one liners have pretty much been themes in later klogs. I can vouch that a lot of the "getting older" ones are still too Goddamned true. I still eat cottage cheese and peanut butter before bed most nights, but the dreams have long since stopped. How ironic that line about the decisions made by the head honchos of all these corporations are rarely in tough with the real world. That's even more true today. Call me Kreskin. I am also guessing that this was a clearinghouse post. I had all these ideas floating around my head, but they weren't fully developed enough to merit their own post. Lately, it's been hard for me to hold to that relentless pursuit motto. I have learned now that it takes money. And I have failed miserably at that 'whatever you're doing have a good time' thing. And I know I am still so right about Christina falling for me....

Birthday Cards Suck

Birthday cards are a waste. I am sure Hallmark doesn’t want you to know that, but it’s true. I hate buying birthday cards. I mean, what’s the point? If you are giving a card instead of/with no present, why even bother? Unless there’s money in it, don’t waste our time. And if you are giving a card along with a present, again, I ask you, what’s the point? No one’s gonna pay attention to the card; they just wanna get to the present.

Maybe this is (yet another) example of how my view/feelings seems to differ from just about any other ration person in the world. Just so you know where I am coming from, there are three appropriate actions you can take when you discover it’s my birthday (which is March 22nd, BTW).
1) Shake my hand or pat me on the back and say “Happy Birthday”
2) Buy me a drink. Or 17.
3) Buy me a present.


You will note at no point of the above list does it say to buy me a card. If I never got another birthday card, it would never bother me.

I’ll tell ya a little something right now. If you do buy me a card, I will open it up, say how nice/funny, then promptly throw it right the hell in the trash. That’s right, I am not even gonna recycle it, just to spite you and your old fashioned thinking. Why do you hate Mother Earth so?

OK, so maybe every other motard out there doesn’t see it my way. Fine. I still hate shopping for birthday cards, or any cards for that matter. I always seek out to buy funny cards. Birthdays, wedding, anniversaries, graduations, funerals. Do you know how hard it is to find a “gee, I am sorry your favorite uncle died” card that is funny. We recently went to a wedding, and it was my job to buy the card. I bought the first humorous card I saw because it was the only one they had.

Let’s face it. Buying cards is a total chick thing to do. Guys don’t feel comfortable buying cards for anyone; wives, girlfriends, fathers, co-workers etc. Guys hate buying cards for other guys. There’s really no masculine way to do it. I swear, while I was out buying cards today (hence the idea for this post) I saw a “I really like your hair” card that chicks can buy for other chicks. WTF?

And since I hate buying cards, I put it off till the last minute (yea, another totally guy things guy do). That usually means I am doomed to go to the CVS up the street. I fucking hate CVS (Post for another day). It takes me seemingly forever to find at least a mildly humorous card, then I get behind some windowlicker that has coupons and returns, and the line just grows. Much like my frustration, I am there to buy one measly, unfunny card, and now I have to wait even longer to get the hell out of there?

Birthday cards are nice “notions”. Every year, one of my mom’s friends-who I haven’t really seen in like 20 years-sends me a birthday card to my parents’ house. That’s very sweet and all, but my life is not affected either way. It’s not like if she forgets, I will suddenly hate her. Further proof that bday cards are a waste; what do you do with yours? Right, you throw them right the hell out. (Unless of course they are from your significant other. That goes without saying, doofus.)

Maybe this all has something to do with me being unable to remember people’s bdays. Gun to my head, I could make a pretty close guess to my mom’s, and a general guess as to my dad’s. I definitely know my brother’s, and middle sister (she’s a New Year baby). I have 2 other sisters, one which I could accurately guess (it’s a few days from my mom’s and I always get them confused) and the other one I can guess the month. Yea, I know, that makes me a shitty person and all, but that’s just the way it is. And you are no better than me. Quick, when is my birthday? Yea, I thought so….

The selection of cards out there is weak, to say the least. It’s like Hallmark & Shoebox cornered the market and stopped trying. I am sure there is some cool internet place to get truly funny, edgy cards. But again, I refer you to the above paragraph about guys waiting for the last minute. I am more than happy with e-cards. You can personalize them to a degree, and it’s easier on the environment. I am sure some Internet genius is already working on porno e-cards. “Hi, my name is Destinee, and you can come into my Inbox anytime.”

So now we’re off to another birthday party, with another lame bday card in tow. The poor card will have a life of about 15 seconds from being opened to going into the trash. Really, I would much rather give the three bucks right to the person. Buying cards is the equivalent of throwing a few singles right in the trash. And I know of one place where I can use my singles far better….

37

(Originally written 4/3/8)

First off, I apologize if this post will suck. I’ve been sick the last few days, and I hardly ever get sick. In fact, when I was working, most of my sick days were in fact mental health days. OK, and a few “I am too drunk/hungover to work” days, but hardly ever due to real ill health. It’s looking like nothing major, just a 3-4 day thing. Starts with sore throat and you can’t sleep, the next day it progresses to phlegm, itchy eyes, soreness, tight chest (and hey, who doesn’t like a tight chest? ZING!), etc. Then a day or 2 to flush it out. I am a pretty wussy sickie. In cases like this, I give the bug one whole day to ravage me. I succumb, with full intentions of being functional the next day. I guess it’s some sort of mental thing like it can beat me for a day, but that’s it. So here I am at the hopeful tail end, just in time for the weekend.

As I write this, it’s Thursday night. I find myself writing a lot on Thursday nights. My wife is outta the house for a few hours learning to cook raccoon or weasel or other such shit under the guise of ‘Japanese cooking’. I have some space to be burgeoning writer. Plus I usually throw back a few CR & DCs (coconut rum & Diet Coke). But as I’m just getting better, and still have a whole day where I can hammer my hand into oblivion, reason takes over and my liver smiles in silent appreciation. So I am sick and sober. 2 things I prefer not to be.

My birthday was this past Saturday. Yes, yes, I am sure all your cards and presents are in the mail. Actually, it was like when I was writing the Missile newsletter, and berated all my stores for never sending me presents in exchange for all the monthly entertainment they got. Guess what? I got exactly as many presents from them this year as I did last year;bubkis.

Unlike most of my work, this is not to be bitter. Birthdays pretty much stop being fun after 21. Then it’s about “hitting” all the big numbers; 30, 40, 50, etc. My wife asks me what I want for my birthday, and I tell her nothing. I seriously have pretty much everything I need. Sure, there are tons of cool, expensive things I want, but I count myself very lucky to need next to nothing. I think maybe basically being without a job for this long has made me realize a lot of things. I will not have the biggest house on the block, but everything I need (and want) is here, so that makes it the best. I will never have the newest car, but it will get me where I need to go. I will never have the biggest TV, but I enjoy everything I watch on my small 3 foot non HD screen. I will never have the best body, but it’s healthy, and let’s me do all I want/need.

I guess birthdays are an easy way to look back at the last year. Another year older and all, but did I grow wiser? I don’t really know, but I will share with you my observations.

It seems once you hit your mid 30’s, and people find out it’s your birthday, they always ask the same question; “well, do you feel older?” And up to this year, I could say no. But this year, I found myself having to fucking say yes. But let me qualify that. I’ve been helping my bro in law pretty steady for the last 4-5 weeks or so. It’s the steadiest thing I’ve had in a while, and by far the most physical gig I’ve ever had. After being a Maury-watching, moose tracks ice cream eating bump on the couch for so long, it sure was a shock to my body. I’m kinda in the swing of it by now, but I can’t kid you. There are some days I come home and am completely exhausted.

I pretty much haven’t given up the gym, though it has been a struggle to get in a good, full week every week. I’ve skipped a day here and there due to “fatigue”, “exhaustion”, or just out and out “lazy”. I still play hockey every Monday night. My eating habits have taken a bit of a hit. I can’t eat the way I used to; like 5-6 times a day. Instead, I have to wolf down a ton of food at lunch. I eat so much so fast, I often develop hiccups. And I can tell you, hiccups are not a manly trait at the jobsite.

So I think that has something to do with it. Once I truly find my groove, I will feel better. There are other things I can’t ignore however. I wanna say at about 33-34, grays starting creeping in. Just in the scruff on my chinny chin chin. Not too big of a deal, but over the last year, these SOBs have spread like Jamie Lynn Spear’s legs. ZING! HI-O! Over the last year, I noticed long grays creeping in my SRVISPT (Stevie Ray Vaughn inspired soul patch thingie) That’s a bit harder to hide. It looks like I have fishing line coming out of my mouth. (Which I did have on my 25th birthday, but that another story.) Deep breath, OK, I can handle this. Then a few months back I found the grays invaded my head. It was like overnight, the Gray Hair Fairy would pick a hair here, and a hair there and suddenly turn them white. I was shocked. Goddamn it. I admit to being vain enough to pluck them out. But then that led me to the moral quagmire of ripping hair out just because it was white. I’m not dying my hair Nickelback blonde anymore, so I feel they stand out. Fine, I will concede this one for now. But when I land The Job, and they allow me to dye my hair funny colors, it’s game fucking on whities.

I should have realized when the Gray Hair Fairy was paying me visits to wear a shirt. Because not too soon after, to my horror, I found a few gray chest hairs. O fuck. There is no denying this aging thing now. I just need a cheesy shirt and medallions and I can fade into leisure suit land. OK, the chesties bothered me, and yes I did rip them right the hell out. I will win that battle. And since you are curious, but don’t want to ask, no, I have no grays down there. Pervert.

The getting-older thing is creeping up in other areas as well. Most nights I am in bed by ten fucking o’clock. Wanna guess what time my parents go to bed? Right. But I think I can qualify this as well. When you sleep, your body heals itself. Most gymrats will tell you that muscles are built in the gym. This is total bullshit. You tear your body up in the gym; you actually grow when your body sleeps. Plus I have trouble falling asleep, so the earlier I get to bed, technically, the more time I get to fall asleep. I use that time to mentally organize the next day. I find I get a lot of writing ideas when I’m lying there. So I am being productive when I go to bed early. Plus I am so damn tired….. And it’s never a good sign to wake up on a Saturday and think “well, what time can I take a nap today?”

I see my generation being phased out as “young”, and rightfully so. I see it when we go out to bars. We’re not those young, careless kids anymore. (And yes I am saying we because I know a bunch of you are around my age and I want to drag you down too, old fart.) I see it when there are some bars we (this time we meaning the typical crowds I run in) used to go to, but hardly ever do anymore. I can throw out a bunch of bars we used to go to all the time. For some reason, we hardly ever go there at all, and who knows if we ever will? It’s not “our” bar anymore. “Ugh, there’s too many kids there,” we’d say. That may be true, but is there a twinge of jealousy there? If I went to those bars now, I would just be the creepy old loser in the corner leering at all the girls.

Don’t get me wrong. More than anyone I know, I want to go to dive bars. Sometimes I just want to ‘grab a beer’ that is just a beer. No microbrew, import, hawty-tawty, bells & whistle type deal. Just a cold lager at a dive. It doesn’t have to have 50 big screen HDTVs. It can have a good jukebox. It can have peanut shells on the floor. No pretensions, no bullshit, just a normal place to kill a night and not empty my wallet in the process.

But it seems we are now going to “better bars”. Bars where there aren’t a bunch of kids. Bars where there aren’t metal bands playing Pantera. Guys still rocking the long hair, girls rocking the fuck me boots. And I kinda miss that. We go to bars where “people our age” go. I know it’s evolution, I know it happens to everybody. But I would like to go to slightly younger bars. I would be out of the way of the kids who are having nights they will remember the rest of their lives. Sure I would be jealous. But the jealousy is tempered by the fact I know I could drink most of them under the fucking table.

I feel older because we don’t go out nights as often as we used to. In fact, sometime it feels like it’s everything I have to get “dragged” to the supermarket or store. My body feels like it’s being unrightfully ripped away from it’s rightful home on the couch.

I feel it when I make that wildly victorious grunt just because I was able to go up all the stairs. I hear it when I make a pained grunt whenever I get up from the couch. So I reckon making various noises at the completion of everyday tasks is another sign. Good lord. I drink more milk and water then beer on any given week. (Rum, on the other hand….)

I won’t bore you with the whole having-no-job sphiel. You’ve heard all that already, but I will tell you that it has made me appreciate my family and friends more. It’s weird. I’ve been totally blown away by some of the gestures I have received.

I see now that sometimes the best times you can have with friends are when you think nothing ‘special’ will happen at all. Sometimes just being with friends, shooting the shit, maybe barbecuing or watching DVDs, can be really healing. During my layoff, I have been disappointed that I feel some friends have kind of left us behind because money is tight and we can’t go out. And I know it’s just me being paranoid and hyper-sensitive. I know everyone has their own evolutionary schedule going on. The point here being, that sometimes you don’t need to go out, spend a lot of money, or come up with a reason to get together. Just get fucking together. I can’t tell you how many times over the last year that we were with friends doing “nothing special” and the next morning I was still thinking “hell, that was a blast, we need to do that more often. “

On a slightly different topic, I now see that, Goddamn it all to motherfucking hell, my parents were right about a lot of shit. See all that above stuff about me being old and tired? When my dad was my age, he had 4 kids. I didn’t even come along yet. I can’t even begin to imagine how the hell they did that. I do appreciate them much more now. I actually drop in on them from time to time. But I never, ever tell them they were right about stuff. And you fuckwads better not sell me out and show them this, or there will be hell to pay.

I’ve learned that you absolutely have to have something to take your mind off the real life stuff. And you shouldn’t feel guilty about it. Go work all day. Go do all the shit to keep the house running. But also do the stuff that you enjoy. The stuff that gets your mind off all the serious stuff. It could be reading, painting, writing a witty and insightful blog. It could be a run in the park, some time at the batting cages, whatever. We’re not splitting the atom here. But too much real life can be a bad, bad thing.

Time does go by faster as you age, but it’s math more than anything else. Say you’re 4 years old. One year is 25% of your life. But at 40, 1 year is 2.5%.

Society has used age as a barometer. In your early twenties, you’re not supposed to have it all figured out. But, man, come your thirties, you better be well on your way, or you are looked at as retarded. You can be dopey at 23. At 33? Not so much.

I’ve probably learned more that I can share with you, but, hell at my age, I’m forgetting more than I ever knew. It’s getting late-9:07- and the Gray Hair Fairy has work to do.

(OK, I’ve been sitting on this post for a week, trying to make it better. I don’t like the ending, but fuck it, it’s not gonna get much better. So I hope you young punks learned something. Now get the hell off my lawn.)